Modern Flirtations: A Novel

by Catherine Sinclair

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  High Harrowgate, where the more aristocratic strangers and invalidsannually resort, is nearly two miles distant from the mineral well, andfrom Low Harrowgate, which is infested by the more inveterate class ofwater drinkers. Placed far from the offensive odour of the medicatedspring, on an elevated common, which still remains bare in all theuncultivated barrenness of nature, the broad green expanse issurrounded on every side by a wreath of miscellaneous buildings ofevery size and shape, cottages, shops, lodgings, houses, villas, andhotels, all marshalled in a row, and, like guests at the ordinary,mingled without order or distinction; while, elevated above all, andconspicuous for its whitewashed front and innumerable windows, stoodthe extensive building in which Sir Arthur had his sleeping apartments.Its aspect was extremely ancient, with a venerable stone roof peculiarto old times, and testifying to its great antiquity; while the moremodern slates, or even thatch, on the surrounding dwellings, indicateda recent construction.

  At High Harrowgate, a crowd of large consequential-looking hotels maybe observed on every side, all unusually extensive in theiraccommodation, and apparently of nearly equal calibre; but visitors,after residing there some time, become aware that to those whoprescribe gaiety, as well as more salubrious air and water forthemselves, there are but three hotels in Harrowgate. Invalids may beill anywhere, and personages who wish to be exceedingly exclusiveretreat into private lodgings; but for anything that can be dignifiedwith the name of society at an ordinary, the Granby, the Crown, and theDragon, have by mutual agreement, established a singular monopoly,giving balls every alternate night, to which the guests in each houseare reciprocally invited; the ladies and gentlemen of the Granby andCrown requesting the honor of being patronized at a ball on thefollowing night; and each hotel provides a carriage for thetransportation of its own party, in case any of the distinguishedguests should happen by chance not to have brought their privatecarriages. Meantime, it is rather arbitrarily taken for granted, thatthere are neither ladies nor gentlemen at Gascognes, Queen's, the WhiteSwan, or the Black; but residents at these houses are allowed to appearon sufferance, though not as invited guests; being merely "winked at."

  At a Harrowgate dinner the travellers take precedence more according tothe length of their bills than by any other criterion, those who haveresided a month in the hotel going before those who have resided only aweek, and the visitors of a week being far in advance of all whoarrived the day before. A Peer of the realm must sit below his tailor,if he arrived at the house after him, and no dispute about places canarise, as each individual's name is accurately ascertained in themorning, and a plate turned upside down on the table opposite where heis intended to sit, with his name distinctly written in ink on thechina. A label is also attached to each bottle of wine, exhibiting, notthe name of the wine, but the name of its owner, and half an hourbefore dinner, all the gossiping world at each inn, may be observedslowly pacing round the table, and carefully reading the name, style,and title of those with whom they are about to dine, illustrating theirremarks by exchanging biographical anecdotes and remembrances connectedwith each successive person, as he comes under discussion. Thus, thoughmany arrive at Harrowgate strangers whose "names were never heard,"yet, after passing through the ordeal of this gossiping committee,stories and circumstances are gradually discovered or invented, bywhich each individual is in some degree identified.

  Between High and Low Harrowgate, besides a broad, circuitous high-road,two pleasant rural paths lead through the fields, on which agaily-dressed crowd may be seen from peep of day in the morning,hurrying along in rapid succession to the well, with looks ofanticipated disgust in the prospect of that strange compound of horrorswhich they are about to swallow, only comparable to the washings of anold gun-barrel. As Sir Arthur remarked, these waters seemed to havebeen invented for the especial affliction of elderly gentlemen,processions of whom might be observed drinking tuns of water, in orderthat complexions evidently much the worse of wear might in the processof renovation, be mended, cleaned, dyed, and repaired, till they lookedas good as new; and though the Admiral complained that, to hisuncomfortable feelings, it always seemed as if he had swallowed thetumbler itself, yet he valiantly persevered in daily drinking bumpersto his own health, saying that what was good for so many others, wouldbe good for his complaint, if he had one, though, except old age andblindness, he was conscious of none.

  In consequence of Sir Patrick's bet with Mrs. O'Donoghoe, he was on thealert at an early hour before breakfast the next morning, to ascertainwho the incognitos were in the garden room. For nearly an hour hesauntered on the common within sight of the Granby, exchanging gayobservations with those who passed, listening with a satirical smile toLord Wigton, who was practising to desperation some of Rossini's airsat an open window, and watching with astonishment the repulsivestranger of the preceding evening, who, closely buttoned up in amilitary surtout, with his hat slouched over his face, was rapidlypacing up and down, with ceaseless perseverance, close to the gardenroom, with his eye fixed upon the windows and doors, making apparentlyso accurate a survey of those private apartments, that had it been bynight instead of by day, he might almost have been arrested onsuspicion of intending to attempt a burglarious entrance.

  Not a mouse seemed stirring within these rooms, the blinds were alldrawn down, and the doors all closed, but still the stranger pacedrapidly up and down, casting many impatient, irritable glances upwardson the silent walls, yet keeping himself so concealed that no one,looking suddenly out, could have perceived him lurking there. SirPatrick now, for the first time, suspected that he did not belong tothe party within, and became more and more interested in observing hisvarious eccentric movements, which betrayed a high state of excitement,till at length, finding himself watched, with the quickness oflightning he suddenly vanished round a projecting corner of thebuilding, though a few moments afterwards Sir Patrick perceived that hewas concealed in a thicket of trees not far off, where he could stillkeep his eye fastened on the windows with unswerving steadiness.

  Parties, meantime, hurried onwards to Low Harrowgate to do duty at thewell, while some of the loungers had already returned, being fullcharged with their quantum of water, and all very loudly expressingtheir astonishment that Sir Patrick had not yet set forth to hear themilitary band, which was reported to be playing "beautifully!enchantingly! or detestably!" according to the humor of those whospoke.

  The crowd was on this day so excessive, that the old well had beencompletely exhausted, and alarming apprehensions were entertained bythe invalids, of a scarcity for the later visitors, but still SirPatrick stirred not! Though not usually endowed with excessive interestin any affairs but his own, the movements of the mysterious stranger,and his look of feverish anxiety, engrossed almost the whole of SirPatrick's thoughts, though, to avoid any appearance of espionage, hekept up a lively dialogue with Mrs. O'Donoghoe and Captain DeCrespigny.

  Marion in the mean time had been exceedingly amused by the scene whichusually takes place at the well, where every face seemed as if laboringunder the nausea of sea-sickness, and she stood for some time with SirArthur and Mr. Granville, laughingly studying physiognomy, as partiesarrived in rapid succession, threw off a tumbler of smoking horrors,and instantly departed, while a row of shabbily-dressed women, standingbehind a stone counter, hurriedly filled the glasses, and handed themover in a long wooden ladle, to the expectant invalids, one by one, whowere waiting patiently or impatiently for their turn. Each of the greathotels had an emissary appointed here, whose business it was to attendon their respective guests with the proper allowance of water, and itseemed as if these old women knew by a sort of instinct those whobelonged to their own house; but an angry contest having taken placerespecting one gentleman, who was obliged to wait with resignation orwithout it, till the belligerent parties had decided whose privilege itwas to kill or cure him, Marion's attention was more peculiarlyattracted to the spot, where one of the women who assisted in servingout the general beverage had been
hitherto screened from her notice.Her face was excessively muffled up, but in the little that remainedvisible, traces of beauty still remained, though her features were soattuned to suffering, that Marion with wonder and pity contemplated sopale and ghastly a form. At length a dim idea stole into her mind, thatsurely she had seen that face before, but while the floatingremembrance yet continued to flicker indistinctly through her mind, thewretched-looking woman, with a startled glance, had vanished.

  "Patrick!" whispered Marion, turning to take her brother's arm, "dopatronize me for one minute! Did you observe that melancholy-lookingwoman at the well? I never saw so blighted a countenance! What can thesorrows be that stamped such a look of ghastly woe upon these beautifulfeatures?"

  Marion looked up for a reply, and started to find that she hadinadvertently taken the arm of Captain De Crespigny, whose usualvivacity and presence of mind seemed at this moment to have entirelyforsaken him. His eyes were straining after the receding figure of thestranger, with an air of eager astonishment and alarm, while hiscountenance had become white as death. In a moment, however, herecovered himself, when Marion, with an exclamation of surprise, haddrawn away her hand, making a hurried apology for her mistake.

  "Did you not recognise her?" asked he, in accents of almost tremulousagitation. "It could be no one else! Surely that must havebeen--Dixon?"

  "It was!" exclaimed Marion, breathlessly. "How has she come here? whatcan she want? where is Agnes?"

  "This must be inquired into!" muttered Captain De Crespigny, almostinaudibly; and then resuming his usual careless vivacity of tone andmanner, he entreated Marion to let him benefit by the fortunateresemblance of his dress to Sir Patrick's, and still continue to escorther. "I envy Dunbar for the privilege whenever he enjoys it, for youshun me like a rattle-snake," added he, in his most insinuating tone;"yet I would not for worlds be your brother."

  "It is but a troublesome office," replied Marion, looking anxiouslyround for Sir Arthur, who had walked on a few minutes before, leaningon Mr. Granville, and most impatiently did she long for their return,being always on the alert to shun Captain De Crespigny withoutappearing to do so. Though, like all other persons, amused andenlivened by his whimsical and diverting style of conversation, whichhad more even in the manner than in the words, and though with anyfriend of her brother's it pained her courteous nature to be otherwisethan frank and good humored, yet she made a principle of unobtrusivelyevading his assiduities, not only because his conduct to Agnes had beenand still continued unpardonably dishonorable, but she felt indignantto think that he was disposed to beguile his leisure by alsocaptivating and deluding herself. It was obvious that whenever sheentered the room, he became silent and embarrassed with every one else,and took the first opportunity of devoting himself exclusively to her.Not giving one shadow of belief to all his professions, when Marion wasobliged to listen, she did so with unconcealed indignation on findingthe same insinuations of attachment made to herself which had beenrepeated to her formerly with triumphant credulity by Agnes. Marionthoroughly despised his double dealing and ungenerous trifling, whilefeeling nothing for him on that score but contempt, she could almosthave rejoiced that he wasted his efforts to be irresistible on one who,being so fully aware of his character, could incur no danger from thefascinations which had been fatal to the peace of many. Safe in theconsciousness of a hallowed attachment to Mr. Granville, and convincedthat Captain De Crespigny was incapable of a single genuine feeling,she could scarcely have considered it necessary even to be repulsive inher manner; but it seemed due to Agnes as much as possible to avoidhim, knowing that her sister had not yet been able entirely to divestherself of a lingering belief that the professions which were false toall others were sincere to herself.

  For the first time in his whole acquaintance with lady-kind, Captain DeCrespigny felt doubtful and diffident of his own fascinations, and forthe first time also he felt himself really and undeniably in love, asthe transparent single-hearted excellence of Marion's character seemed,when compared with the hackneyed and artificial mind of her sister, andall other girls, like the difference between a pure mountain breeze anda London fog. The attachment he so often affected had now becomegenuine, and the feelings he formerly invented for amusement, andexpressed with the utmost fluency, were now so real, that they couldscarcely be spoken at all; for language seemed to fail him when headdressed Marion, and every day, as it increased his attachment,diminished his hope. She had no vulgar love of admiration; and CaptainDe Crespigny was mortified to perceive, that while the color mounted toher cheek at the slightest evidence of affection from her uncle orbrother, all his own hints of a preference, all his fascinatingattentions and irresistible speeches, were listened to with the samesmiling good humor as if they had been devoted to a third person.Marion always made some ready reply, without a _soupcon_ ofembarrassment, and seemed to take compliments, reproaches, love, ordespair, all as matters of course, which must inevitably be listened towith the same indulgent consideration she would have bestowed on LordDoncaster's lamentations respecting his last attack of the gout. Shedid not even pay him the compliment to drop a single stitch in herknitting from agitation or from interest when he spoke to her; but allhis words passed away like arrows flitting through the air, which leavenot a trace behind.

  Captain De Crespigny became, this morning, more than usually assiduouswhile they stood beside the well, referring to Marion's opinion onevery subject, quoting what he remembered her formerly to have said,rejoicing in everything that seemed to give her pleasure, regrettingthe most trifling annoyance that fell in her way, approving of all hersentiments, and talking in raptures of old Sir Arthur, while eyes,smiles, voice, and manner, all indicated the feelings he wished toconvey; but Marion merely congratulated herself, that having seen thecards already, she knew the game he was playing.

  "Miss Dunbar!" said Captain De Crespigny, rushing eagerly forward topick up a flower which the wind had blown out of her bouquet, "may Ikeep this rose?"

  "Certainly! any gentleman may take a flower; but I never give one.There are twenty better in the garden."

  "I would give all the twenty for this one. This is more precious thananything except the hand that gives it. Indeed this is the only rose inthe world I care for!"

  "The white moss-rose is more fragrant, and not so common," answeredMarion, indifferently. "That was beautiful an hour since, though ratherthe worse of wear now."

  "I am so unalterable in my preferences, that even though withered anddecayed, still it would be precious to me, as connected withrecollections which I shall cherish till the world's end, and till theend of time! Flowers speak a language which words cannot express; andeven if mine were to fade in an hour, let me enjoy it while I may. Thisrose does not hoard all its sweetness, as you do!"

  "Captain De Crespigny, if your conversation has a fault in the world,it is too plain, matter-of-fact, and unadorned," said Marion, with acareless laugh. "You have wasted a whole summer of lilies and rosesupon me during the last five minutes, and I ought to answer you with aperfect conservatory in return; but it sounds dreadfully like thedouble-distilled essence of the Minerva press. I thought this veryflourishing style of compliment had been worn out now, and given over,as old clothes are, to the race of abigails and valets. But here comesmy sister; and, to speak in your own fashion, remember '_je ne suis pusla rose, mais j'ai vecu avec elle_.'"

  To Marion's astonishment, Agnes merely strolled past, with her eyesearnestly fixed upon nothing, and did not interrupt her conversationwith Lord Doncaster and the Abbe Mordaunt, by whom she was escorted,except to give a smiling nod to Captain De Crespigny, who seemedexceedingly surprised at her indifferent "how-d'e-do" manner, andexcessively piqued at the carelessness she either felt or feigned,saying, in a tone of satirical wonder:

  "The Abbe seems to have every probability of gaining a proselyte! Hehas been very successful among the lower orders lately, though; Ibelieve, my uncle's ale and roast beef ought to receive great part ofthe credit; but I cannot be suffici
ently astonished at our newconvert!"

  "I must discuss this subject with my sister!" replied Marion, pleasedto observe Captain De Crespigny so much interested in Agnes. "It iswrong to have delayed so long asking an explanation; but I could almostmore easily die for those I love, than distress them. My uncle wouldcare too much on the subject, and Patrick too little; therefore it mustdevolve upon me to speak. We are to have a long drive, soon. Let meconsider! this is Tuesday--to-morrow will be Wednesday----"

  "How clever of you to find that out! You would certainly havediscovered the longitude!"

  "No doubt of that! I have discovered a great deal in my time; but inthe meanwhile I shall talk this over fully with Agnes to-morrow."

  "Do not speak of to-morrow, when to-day is the happiest, perhaps, in mylife! I wish there were no to-morrows! Such an hour as this appears tome like an aloe, which can blossom only once in my existence."

  "You entertain very moderate expectations of life, therefore I think wemay confidently rely on your being agreeably surprised by many days aspleasant."

  "Then they must be passed in the same society; but Miss Dunbar, italways seems as if you would rather say 'Good bye' to me than 'How d'yedo!' You treat me with the most barbarous injustice! Your heart neverteaches you to understand mine! Is it that you hate or despise me? Youare so amiable to others, so charming, so everything that I couldadmire, yet to me your smiles are as cold and chilling as a moon-beamon snow. Be severe, satirical, anything but half absent and altogetherindifferent, while you listen to me only with the ear and not at allwith the heart. I shall positively be obliged at last to give you up."

  "I wish you would! We might be the best of friends as well as cousins,if you would only talk to me in an everyday manner, without rehearsingover those absurd Romeo-and-Juliet speeches."

  "Let us, then, be friends now, and more than friends in time to come."

  "Never! O never! Patrick has led you to disbelieve my engagement toanother; but at all events, Captain De Crespigny, if we lived inseparate planets we could not be more entirely divided; and even injest, I cannot allow any one to talk as you do, though I know it ismerely an unconquerable habit you have of saying the same thing toevery young lady, indiscriminately."

  "What a shocking aspersion! you seem to think me incapable of a singlerespectable feeling, but believe me, since first we met I have scarcelyknown whether there be another girl in the world but yourself! Everymoment I can be with you adds something to the value of my existence."

  "Your civilities are all so complete a burlesque that I need neverforget they are in jest!" replied Marion, looking considerably bored,and hurrying onwards, while Captain De Crespigny buried himself inmelancholy silence, and assumed a most perfect attitude of gracefuldespair. Finding the pause rather awkward, she added, in an every day,commonplace tone: "Are you going to hear Grisi to-night? I am told thatlarge sums are given for places on the heads of those who have alreadysecured seats!"

  "If I go to Grisi's concert, the temptation is--not to hear him--thatyou know very well--too well! I have but one object in going anywhere,and that is--to meet you. _Esperer aupres de vous vaut mieux que jouiravec tout autre._ I must quarrel with that little shake of the head.It is a libel on my sincerity! Miss Dunbar, your face is a perfectprinting press, and publishes all you think! I wish you possessed themagic ring which enabled people to know exactly what was thought ofthem! You are in my debt several months of devoted attachment! Littledo you guess how often and how deeply your slightest words arepondered, remembered, repeated, and dwelt upon in my solitary hours,nor how constantly I wish that the man in the moon, who employs hisleisure in knitting people together with invisible cords, would, for myespecial happiness, give us a few stitches."

  "It must be his fault that we have been kept so very long together thismorning. Where can my uncle be?" said Marion, impatiently. "You areaware already, Captain De Crespigny, that I must receive all mybrother's friends with civility. In that respect his authority shall beobeyed, as it is of no use quarreling with the wind, but if youconsider me indifferent, that is what I am and ought to be, thereforethink me so always."

  "That very indifference is distracting! Let me acknowledge, MissDunbar, that I may have deceived others, but you I never even wished todeceive; others I have flattered, but no one can flatter you, becausenothing can be said equal to what I think. I wish new words could beinvented to express the ardor of my sentiments! When we are together,the present moment is everything! I have neither past nor future,neither hopes nor fears, but what are connected with you," said CaptainDe Crespigny, with hurried impetuosity, while a rush of mingled feelingswept across his features. "I forget everything else when you arepresent, and neither know nor care where I go in your absence. I loveyou as I never loved before and never can again. The world, in short,has only two divisions, in my estimation--where you are, and where youare not. Despise my attachment if you will, but at least believe init."

  "You grieve me to the very heart," said Marion, in a low, tremulousvoice, for there was an irresistible air of truth in Captain DeCrespigny's manner which startled and shocked her. "I never for asingle moment could imagine you serious about anything! Life and evenits most sacred affections seem all in your estimation a mere jest, tobe thought of and forgotten with a smile. I trust it is so now! I wouldnot for worlds believe you in earnest! You seem really to have partedwith your senses!"

  "Or rather I found them from the moment I learned to appreciate you!Did you never hear, Miss Dunbar, that in this world two individuals arealways created suitable to each other, who must both be miserableunless they become one, and you exactly fill up the beau ideal whichhas haunted me from the hour I left Eton."

  "Why? De Crespigny!" exclaimed Sir Patrick, coming forward, "with thatmelo-dramatic air, you seem to be rehearsing a last speech andconfession."

  "Or rather my first speech and confession," replied he, with aconscious laugh. "And Miss Dunbar, I must entreat you not tobelieve----"

  What Captain De Crespigny entreated her not to believe Marion did notwait to hear, as they had at last reached the Granby, and she rushed upto her own room, while he, as much astonished at his reception as agentleman could well be, strolled slowly away singing to himself withangry asperity,

  "If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve; If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go."